


Seeds of Hope

by DustOnBothSides



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Cadet Armitage Hux, Gen, Isolation, Nightmares, Unknown Regions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustOnBothSides/pseuds/DustOnBothSides
Summary: Temporarily stationed on an inhospitable planet along with the other cadets, Armitage wanders the empty corridors of their shelter one cold night.





	Seeds of Hope

> Armitage woke up. 
> 
> It was in the dead of the night, and how strange was it, that he could experience ‘night’ again? He became so used to the superficial timelessness on board of Star Destroyers, this strange temporal monotony which manifested itself through the lack of change between times of the day and seasons, that watching the sun set was almost like a dream. 
> 
> Not that his dreams were particularly colourful or peaceful. 
> 
> In fact, it was a dream what woke him up. 
> 
> A dream of running up an impossibly long staircase suspended in an empty void. Somehow he could tell it didn’t lead anywhere, but he had to run because he was being chased. There was a creature behind him. Part fish, part medusa, part human. Its huge eyes were a pair of lamps glowing with a dirty yellow light. And it didn’t _chase_ him per se - whenever he glanced over his shoulder, it just stood there, but always a little closer than before. 
> 
> Eventually he woke up, pyjamas damp with cold sweat. 
> 
> He sat up and listened. 
> 
> Silence. 
> 
> Eerie. 
> 
> Not a trace of the soothing hum of the _Venator-_ class engines. 
> 
> He frowned. He didn’t want to be there. That whole place made him uneasy. He would’ve been much happier had he stayed up in the sky, even though most ships of this part of the fleet were undergoing much needed maintenance and repairs. Perhaps he could’ve even helped. Alas, orders were orders and all non-essential personnel had been shipped down on the inhospitable planet below, where they’ve been divided between four atmoShells - huge transparisteel domes of vaguely organic design, containing ugly, blocky buildings built of reddish stone and duracreet. 
> 
> He couldn’t wait for the repairs to be over so he could resume his routine, but kept this opinion to himself. While being planetside, the cadets’ classes were suspended, and this was met with badly-concealed joy form both them _and_ their teachers. Armitage already stood out because he got a room of his own, albeit a closet-sized one, so he remained quiet about his wish to return and kept to himself, locked in his room with his datapad and flimsis. 
> 
> This night was the second after their arrival. 
> 
> He missed the _Guidance_ , the _Venator_ -class ship used as an academy for cadets and training centre for future stormtroopers. He missed his room. They were told to only bring their essentials with them, which meant he didn’t have his boxes of purloined or scavenged parts to tinker with, only whatever drafts he had on his datapad. Even 411-Y aka ‘Ally’, the MSE droid he had repaired after it got beaten up by some of his fellow cadets, got to stay up there, free to course the corridors of the _Guidance._
> 
> And it was cold inside the atmoShells.
> 
> So cold. 
> 
> When Armitage swung his legs over the edge of the cot and his toes touched the floor, he shuddered as if a kaadu walked over his grave. So cold.
> 
> He wished he had to visit the bathroom so he’d have _some_ excuse to leave his casket of a room at one o’clock at night local planetary time, but unfortunately no matter how he tried, he just couldn’t come up with a reason to roam the corridors. 
> 
> _I can’t sleep_ , he told himself. _Many suffer from insomnia. I’d even say it’s rather common among the adults. I’m entitled to go through a bout of it, here and there. After all, I’m already twelve. It won’t take long and I’ll make a fine junior officer. Even Grand Admiral Sloane said so._
> 
> He stood up and wrapped the flimsy, standard-issue blanket he’d been provided with around his shoulders. One day he would become a genius warlord-engineer, so it felt only natural that he’d start to suffer from insomnia at an early age. 
> 
> And that’s what kept him awake. Insomnia; not a bad dream. And to cure it he needed exercise and a change of scenery. 
> 
> He unlocked his room and peeked out. 
> 
> Only about a quarter of the corridor lights were on, and at least half of those dimmed and lit up in infrequent intervals, so the hallway was full of odd, unsteady shadows, but at least there were no people. Or his fellow cadets. _Especially_ his fellow cadets. 
> 
> Armitage gulped and took a first couple of steps. It was dead-quiet. No unexpected sound disturbed the late night peace. He balled his fists and walk on, however… The farther he got from his room, the more it felt like his feet dragged through molasses. 
> 
> (It was like-)
> 
> His feet halted. Breath hitched. Some horrible, suffocating weight expanded from his belly up the torso.
> 
> (-when he was wandering through the burning corridors in search of his-)
> 
> (-only to be yanked away and-)
> 
> (-‘pop’ went the joint, but that man wouldn’t-)
> 
> (An ocean of flames raged, their whorls twisting and merging like waves hammering at the white breakwaters down at the beach. Burnt-up bodies. A small form crying for mother. Blackened, cracked skin showed reddish meat underneath. A sad little monster.)
> 
> Armitage backed away until he hit the wall and slumped down on the floor, his legs giving in. His hands shook. Right one grasped the left wrist. The wrist that had been accidentally dislocated. By that person. The dark-haired man. The Swift. 
> 
> He wasn’t sure how long he stayed that way, but eventually he was roused from his stupor by something unexpected. A peal of laughter. A sound so full of joy, he thought it must’ve come from a holo or a dream. In reality it seemed to emanate from a crack in a nearby door. 
> 
> Armitage pulled himself together. He wiped furiously at his sweat-damp face and tried to flatten his hair. He made himself look presentable and as imposing as possible… only to crouch by the door where he wouldn’t be seen. He took a quick peek inside. 
> 
> The room on the other side was rather spacious and filled with cadets. He recognised Horan, Razar and le Hivre, his father’s favourites, as well as others from the promising, ambitious or bootlicking stock. They were playing _spin the blaster_ (with a useless low-calibre DME gun, which was a glorified pea-shooter more than anything else). 
> 
> The muzzle landed on one of them.
> 
> _“Facts or deeds, facts or deeds!”_ everyone chanted. 
> 
> One after another they all chose facts. 
> 
> _Which girl would you like to kiss? Who did you fap to last time? Where on your crush’s body would you put your tongue?_
> 
> Laughter, laughter, laughter. 
> 
> Armitage did not understand. The idea of licking someone was absolutely revolting. And why would anyone want Commander Windrider to sit on their face? Sitting _in front_ of him made sense as he was an amazing pilot, but wanting him to sit on their faces – were they all weirdoes? 
> 
> Armitage frowned and left. 
> 
> After a while he came across another burst of laughter, this one coming from the throats of adults. 
> 
> He took a stealthy look inside. 
> 
> Father was there as well as others. Peavey, Canady… Opan in the corner, trying to look like a part of the wall. The room was filled with heavy, bluish smoke and the scent of alcohol. Armitage remembered this combination from other times as well. Father then mentioned something and Canady and Peavey roared with laughter. 
> 
> _“And then I danced with her and you wouldn’t believe how easy it was to-“_
> 
> _“Yes, but didn’t she grab you by the-…”_
> 
> _“Yes, so?”_
> 
> _“That was a **male!** ”_
> 
> _“Again - yes, so?”_
> 
> _“He bent **you** over the railing.”_
> 
> _“Railing - that’s a proper word; right, Ed?”_
> 
> _“So? What does it matter as long as the results are worth it, eh?”_
> 
> Everyone howled with laughter again. 
> 
> Armitage had a feeling Opan saw him, so he backed away from the door and skulked off. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew father would probably punish him for this. For being up and about after lights-out, for being at their door, for _being_ in general. 
> 
> He kept drifting through the corridors in an unintentional imitation of an MSE’s behaviour and only felt true relief once the only sound he could hear was the pattering of his own footsteps. No laughter, no whooping or shouting. The corridor was cold, but that was okay. The blanket held him reasonably warm, though _could’ve_ remembered to grab his shoes as well. 
> 
> Before too long he reached the shell - a thick transparisteel layer, additionally protected by a force-field which kept them safe from the inhospitable outdoors. 
> 
> It was dark beyond the shell, the darkness further underlined by several lighting fixtures spread all around the perimeter. The blackness was heavier, more ominous than the nights he vaguely remembered from Arkanis. A cloud of reddish dust came and went, moving through the atmosphere primarily composed of nitrogen. _Where_ the dust came from Armitage wasn’t too sure. It had been raining methane several hours ago. The ground should’ve been too wet for dust to form. Or frozen. Or something.
> 
> Armitage’s forehead crinkled and he pressed his lips together. 
> 
> This nameless planet obviously did whatever it wanted. He didn’t like that. 
> 
> He couldn’t see any stars, couldn’t even see the outline of the _Guidance_ or any other Imperial ship. It made him feel trapped. But worst of all was _that structure_ over there. _It_ was still visible. 
> 
> The cadets had noticed it right after their arrival. It would’ve been impossible _not to_. 
> 
> There, carved in a nearby rock massif which rose abruptly from the flattish terrain to heights of over two kilometres, was something like a temple. Vertical bands of its walls were smooth and their corners sharp. Their reddish surface was criss-crossed by a vein-like streak, a lode of some metal the colour of dried blood. B what Armitage disliked most about it was the entrance. 
> 
> High, narrow and topped with a lancet arch, it was ominously black. Ever since Armitage first saw it, he often wondered about the beings which had used it. What species were they? What did they use this temple for? Was it a temple? And who in the world would carve an entrance hundred and twenty metre high? 
> 
> All these questions were highly disconcerting, yet he still plopped down on the floor, leaned back against a wall and hugged his cold legs. He didn’t want another bad dream. He didn’t want to think about the Academy back on Arkanis. He didn’t want to wonder why he wasn’t invited to any of the late-night get-togethers where everyone seemed to have such a great time. 
> 
> He stared at the entrance. It was so huge, so impossibly huge. 
> 
> Then he looked at his feet. They were small. Isk, one of the boys he commanded, sometimes joked about it. How small were his feet, his hands, how narrow his waist, shoulders, chest. It was just some good-natured teasing, and when Armitage was in a good mood, he didn’t even tell Onith or Enth to smack him; but it still hurt, for father often repeated the same remarks, although in a much less genial manner. 
> 
> And the way CD-0922 _looked_ at him. It made Armitage’s blood boil. 
> 
> It wasn’t his fault he was so thin. He tried to eat when there was food. He tried to exercise. But how could he devote as much time to physical education as others when he was enrolled in the special engineering program? He still remembered how happy he had been when he got the invitation. How proud. This program was often called ‘the legacy of the Tarkin Initiative’. He showed the message sent by the _Advancement_ to his father-
> 
> …who only huffed and asked Armitage, whether he really planned to become an egghead. He called his desire to learn and construct cowardice and unwillingness to experience a real battle, and then he slapped Armitage, whose eyes were starting to sting from the disappointment. Not strong enough to leave a mark and incite Grand Admiral Sloane’s wrath, but painful enough for Armitage to choke out an apology and spend the rest of the day in tears. 
> 
> _One day I’m going to design the greatest weapon in the galaxy and then he’ll see_ , Armitage thought to himself as he wiggled his toes, blue from the cold. 
> 
> More than ever, he wished he had Ally here with him. Ally was always nice. When he felt down she whirred around in a funny manner to make him laugh, and when he got sick she brought him food. Well, until those douches attacked her that one time, stole all his food and hit the poor droid so hard, she got a big dent in her side he had to repair. 
> 
> Repair…
> 
> Yes. He very much liked repairing. 
> 
> And designing. 
> 
> He was certain he would design many wonderful machines and weapons in the future, even better than those produced on Ix. And he vowed to himself that by then father, CD-0922, Haran and the others would all be gone. Gone, as in rotting somewhere in the ground or floating through the frozen void of space. 
> 
> If only his feet would stop being so cold. 
> 
> He breathed into his palms and tried to transfer that warmth into his toes, but instead of warming them, it only made his hands colder. 
> 
> He looked up-
> 
> -and froze like a nuna caught in the headlights of a speeder. 
> 
> There were _lights_ in front of the temple. Lights, which had nothing in common with fixtures surrounding the shell. Pairs of lights.
> 
> Pairs of eyes. 
> 
> Huge and round and shining like lamps. 
> 
> Armitage couldn’t move. He was paralysed by shock.
> 
> And rather than being close to the temple, the eyes were actually closer to the shell. Closer- and approaching. With _him_ in their sight.
> 
> Eventually they reached the actual force-field… and passed through it as if it wasn’t there. They only stopped in front of the actual transparisteel pane. One. Two. A dozen. Beings of roughly humanoid outline but more than three times the height of an actual human being. And that was all he could tell about them, for those giants looked like they were made of condensed night, blackness with indistinct borders and a pair of dimly glowing stars. 
> 
> Armitage forgot to breathe.
> 
> His heart was hammering against the ribcage. 
> 
> He tried to back away, but hit the wall, but still tried to back away. 
> 
> Those giants surrounded him. Their row blocked out the glare from the lighting fixtures. 
> 
> Then, one after another, they leaned in and put their hands against the transparisteel panel. 
> 
> Armitage scrambled up and ran away. His feet have grown so numb, he fell to the ground and scraped his elbows, but he hardly noticed. 
> 
> He ran.
> 
> A minute and many looks over his shoulder later he calmed down. It seemed they couldn’t get past the shell. Maybe. 
> 
> He swallowed hard and tried to think what to do. 
> 
> Rae. 
> 
> She’d know. 
> 
> He found her quarters and knocked at the door. When there was no answer, he entered the code and let himself in. 
> 
> The room was dark, lit only by the bluish glow of a holoscreen. In front of it was an armchair. Armitage could see a hand on an armrest. 
> 
> He clenched his fists, trying to stop his hands from shaking so hard. 
> 
> “G-grand Admiral Sloane? I apologise for bothering you at this hour, but there are… there are some _entities_ outside the shell. They’re so big and their eyes glow and they t-taped the glass, and… and… they just walked through the force field as if it was nothing. They came from the temple, Grand Admiral Sloane, I just know it. They live in there. Maybe there are whole _myriads_ of them in there. What if they do something to our transport and… Grand Admiral Sloane?”
> 
> He clenched his fists again and sauntered closer. 
> 
> His heart started to hammer once more. 
> 
> The hand on the armrest wasn’t moving. 
> 
> What if some of those things already got inside? What if Rae was _dead_?
> 
> He walked in front of the sofa and his legs almost buckled with relief. 
> 
> The Grand Admiral was merely sleeping, wrapped in the same blanket as Armitage.
> 
> He bit the inside of his lip and gently shook her. 
> 
> Brown eyes flickered open. 
> 
> “Uh… Ar… Armitage? What’s wrong?” she mumbled, half asleep. 
> 
> “Grand Admiral Sloane. There are some things outside the shell. Giants. Made of darkness. And their eyes are glowing. And they t-tapped the glass. They came from inside the temple. I’m sure of it.” Armitage tried to explain, his voice growing quieter with each word.
> 
> The Grand Admiral just blinked and pulled the blanket tighter around her body. 
> 
> “Go to bed, Armitage. The atmosphere of this planet can’t support life and that structure has already been thoroughly investigated by our droids. There’s nothing inside. The entrance doesn’t even lead anywhere. There’s just rock behind it. Solid rock. You had a bad dream, that’s all.”
> 
> “O-oh, I see. Uhm… I’ll go now. I’m sorry for disturbing you, Grand Admiral.”
> 
> “H-hm.” Rae just hummed and she was asleep. 
> 
> Armitage left, feeling more and more like a fool. Her words sounded so reasonable. Was it really a bad dream? 
> 
> He passed the room with senior officers. 
> 
> They were still laughing, with Peavey recounting some story about three Togruta women whose speeder broke down in the central yard of a chocolate factory. Each sentence was punctuated by roars of laughter. Everyone in the room seemed to find the idea of chocolate-covered lekku inherently funny. 
> 
> Armitage peeked inside, hoping there’d be someone… someone… someone with the air of a person who might be concerned with the outside. The broad-shouldered Canady, who had the stature of a boxer, laughed so hard he kept spilling drops of some kind of a frothy drink. The usually serious Peavey grinned as he elaborated on the story, his beady eyes sparkling. Ensign Opan seemed as remote as before, sitting in the shadows and nursing a drink. Suddenly he turned and his eyes met with Armitage’s. The boy shrank back and left. He didn’t want to deal with the Ensign. He was father’s lackey, which made him automatically someone not to be trusted. 
> 
> He moved on. 
> 
> The room with Armitage’s fellow cadets was also still occupied, though much quieter. Several of them sniggered about something while drinking the same frothy liquid as the high ranks, while some others danced to the tune of some outlandish music. A couple in the corner was embracing rather enthusiastically. 
> 
> Armitage turned away. 
> 
> Just before he reached his tiny room, he stopped and looked back up the corridor. 
> 
> It was quiet. Eerily so. None of the alarms went off. The air was still perfectly breathable, which meant the wall wasn’t breached. 
> 
> For a moment Armitage felt almost disappointed. 
> 
> Everyone acted like they were on vacation. Like it was _fine_ , being away from the _Guidance_ and the other ships of the fleet. But that was wrong. No one had any business fooling around like this. Ever since they arrived on this planet, Armitage buried himself in flimsies on mechanics, and used his small portable holo drafter to create models of exhaust ports and hydraulics. He tried to find out as much about repulsors and tractors as he could on his own, but it was too difficult a subject without a teacher. But at least he tried, at least he made some effort to restore their righteous place in the galaxy and put an end to the usurpers. 
> 
> And yet everyone kept treating _him_ like he was a pariah. 
> 
> He wished-…
> 
> …he wished _they_ would come. He wished they would make father, CD-0922 and everyone else see that they were still very much outcasts in an unfriendly part of the universe none of them was familiar with. 
> 
> Armitage clenched his fists, mentally daring those nightmarish beings to come and trash the atmoShell. He didn’t really think it would have much of an effect - and he wasn’t wrong. 
> 
> Half-disappointed, half-relieved, he returned back in his room and climbed in the cold bed. 
> 
> He saw them. Of that he was sure. He didn’t know what lured them out of the temple, why they let themselves be seen, why they showed themselves to _him_ out of everyone, but they were there. They existed. And he knew about them. And they knew about him. 
> 
> It was a strange feeling. 
> 
> Armitage hugged his knees, trying to retain as much heat as he could, but his mind was elsewhere. He had always believed that the universe contained only two types of beings and events. Those beneficial to him, which formed a minority, and the majority of malignant ones. Meeting something which stood very much _outside_ of these categories… Armitage wasn’t sure why, but it filled him with a strange sensation. With a bit of exaggeration it could almost be called _hope_. 
> 
> Ally the MSE droid wasn’t there, and once again Armitage had to fall asleep while clutching his pillow, but this time he didn’t feel too bad. No, he didn’t feel bad at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments will be much appreciated.


End file.
